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Reclining moon Reclining moon
by Amir Khatib
2020-05-13 08:49:25
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The sun brakes the lights,
shyly and seductively vomiting rays. 
It regains its breath ... it gasps for the fastest arrival, roses flirt here. 
To give everything. 
The trees defiantly give me the right to stay and I will stay. 

moonam01_400The paved ground is annoying, but not at all times. 
Children, as usual, come to the memory of the soul. 
They give her something I don’t know... but I understand. 
The dead are the dead. 
And the walls, with or without paint, rise up lazy. 
A minister swallows the man falling on the ground. 
I don't know where. 
And a vacuum that grows like cancer cells and madness sweeps the soul as a virus loses us all of our immunity. 
And women shine above all ... I will be in Heaven. 
Naked people. 
In the beginning there was death... Ghanaian panic steals my eyes. 
The horror is the tenderness of the cat when she is crying. 
Recumbent fatigue and a mattress that dances around me and sings. 
The light comes .. nothing but the sun.  Dew brags and roses dream of free hands dreaming to me at nightfall. 
White fingers and candy.  In the beginning, the dream was ... In the beginning, it was death ... In the beginning it was the judgment. 
This mankind is doomed to death ... this mankind is doomed to eat a soul. 
This mankind is destined to eat all things and to hit over the head all your life. 
This agnostic is bound to madly eat all of it.  He was and still is the strongest. 
The star casts her lips above the soul... The star casts her gifts over the eyes.  And a dark blue sky. 
The still water charged in this atmosphere swinging. 
My virgins steal at the corners of their eyes, my face and my eyes. 
Chaos.  My women live more in my words.  And my filtrate blood around me with an attractive foam pool. 
Heavy this tempting foam. 
No one knows him but me and God..or my death is half crazy .. half naked. 
Sadness is far between the ribs of my bereaved city. 
Death is far away from the clumsy feet of God. 
Love is far from the lip of my women in my country. 
And I am farther in myself ... and I am closer than I do not know. 
I am closer to all things and others. 
And all the early days of the world. 
I carry my voice. 
My homeland eats all things but myself.  My homeland eats all things except alienation. 
The street is owned by the feet of God in transit and standing. 
And that I have nothing but to dedicate or dream. 
My dreams come to turn the street bigger ... more empty ... whoever crosses all the borders of this world. 
The limits of the unknown will be the narrowest. 
The unknown is a prostitute woman, stripped by nudity. 
O donate all things ..
O pregnant, all the Arab laughter .. all the diligence slow down. 
All are equal. 
Perhaps you ask, who is standing at the door beating and not shy? 
The door is nonsense .. why not enter.  Does God have madmen sending them to turn the earth into the sky? 
Does my face have to laugh? 
Does my face have to shine in the spirit .. and give reassurance. 
Faster .. Faster .. Your strangest street one.  People of your soul. 
Your death.  Cheer on the next unknown ... release him from your prison.  Follow your death in the eyes of all people. 
I will leave my face anymore .. I allow the trains of the universe to dwell in me. 
Say whatever you want .. it's okay.  Because I can reap your face what you like or not. 
Throw half the dirty soul into a bucket.  And the other half impeded him in the weights. 
Choose what kind of live you want.

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